


Surface Similarity

by starbear (panda_hiiro)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Setting, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 14:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13273419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panda_hiiro/pseuds/starbear
Summary: It’s bad enough pining after your teammate. It’s even worse when said teammate gets starry-eyed over your alternate-reality self.Or: Shiro handles jealousy badly.Canon-verse, mid-S4. Shiro POV. Jealousy and pining with a healthy dose of fluff.





	Surface Similarity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [5i2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/5i2/gifts).



> This was a gift fic for a Lance-themed gift exchange. The request was "Shance, with Shiro being jealous about Sven."

I.  

Shiro didn’t like it.

He didn’t like any of it: the mysterious nature surrounding the appearance of their unexpected visitors, the unrestrained welcome from his team, the rift that had closed behind the small craft carrying the two-member crew. But, most of all, he didn’t like Sven Holgersson.

It wasn’t just the unsettling feeling of looking into an animated portrait of his past self - except for the questionable haircut, Sven was a dead-ringer for Shiro prior to the Kerberos mission, he certainly couldn’t deny that - no, it was more the ease with which Sven ingratiated himself with their crew, as if he were an old friend returning after a long absence. Lance, in particular, made no secret of his enthusiasm; Shiro thought he’d understood what he’d missed on the team’s outing to an alternate reality, but if the stars in Lance’s eyes were any indication, there was a _lot_ he didn’t know about it.

And here he thought having two Slavs in the same universe was the worst thing that had ever happened to him.

“Can you believe he jumped in front of a blaster for me? He saved my freaking life,” Lance said, as if Shiro hadn’t already heard a thousand times about how brave and daring and heroic Sven was. “Hey, did you get, like, a cool scar or anything?”

“No worries,” Sven said, with a laugh, “Space Hospital, remember? Patched me up good as new.”

Thirty six hours since they’d picked up the mystery transmission on their long range scanners; thirty six hours since they’d hauled Sven and Slav’s shuttle into the castleship’s hold. Thirty six hours, and now they were all sitting together for dinner, trading pizza rolls and stories as if they were all the best of friends. Shiro aggressively dunked one of said pizza rolls in a cup of something approximating marinara sauce, and shoved the whole thing in his mouth.

“Did they have any cute nurses at Space Hospital?” Lance, of course, was sitting next to Sven, grinning and giving him a conspiratorial nudge. “Huh? C’mon, gimme deets, man.”

“Oh, no, nothing like that…”

Sven had the temerity to blush and avert his gaze, like an embarrassed schoolboy, and a wave of second-hand embarrassment rolled off of him. God. Did Shiro look that ridiculous when he was talking to a cute guy? He certainly hoped not.

“Dude, what is the point of going to the hospital if you don’t have cute nurses to wait on you hand and foot,” Lance said, but his smile gentled into something genuine as he rested his hand on Sven’s arm. “Seriously, though, I didn’t get to say it before, but...thank you. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to say that.”

“Then I should be glad that fate brought us back together,” Sven said, resting his hand over Lance’s.

Shiro felt like he was going to be sick.

Why was it bothering him so much? Lance was always friendly, he flirted with everything on two legs and then some, so why did it feel like something crawling underneath his skin when he saw the way Lance looked at Sven?

_Maybe because he doesn’t look at me like that._

The thought rose, unbidden, in his mind, but once there Shiro couldn’t quite push it away. The fact that he _wanted_ that attention was something he’d been skirting around for a long time, and he’d all but made his peace with it - Lance was straight, Lance was his teammate, Lance was too young for him, any number of convenient excuses existed to satisfy his denial. Sven’s existence violently disrupted the precarious compromise Shiro had made with himself.

“Hey, you should come with me to check out the lions,” Lance said, abruptly dragging Shiro’s focus back to the dinner table and out of his internal monologue. “You didn’t get to see them up close last time, right? Red is _so_ awesome.”

“I don’t think so,” Shiro said, voice sharp and curt.

“Whaaaat?” Lance’s face fell in a pout. It was a childish expression, but one that Shiro usually found oddly endearing. Not so much right now. “Why not?”

“Just because we have guests on the ship, doesn’t mean we can allow them full access to everything.” Shiro paused, and offered a cursory glance towards Sven. “No offense.”

“Oh, come on, what do you think they’re gonna do?”

“No, no it’s okay,” Sven said, “I understand, and Shiro is right. Security of your ship comes first.”

“ _I_ think he’s just being a killjoy,” Lance said, folding his arms across his chest, and slumping in his chair.

These fits of pique didn’t often bother Shiro - in fact, one of the things he liked most about Lance was his changeable nature, the way he wore all of his emotions out on his sleeve for everyone to see. It was a refreshing contrast to the cloistered confines of Shiro’s own mind, and he found Lance’s openness both attractive and enviable. But there was a distance between the two of them, a palpable sense of estrangement that lingered even after all the time they’d spent on the same team, even now that Lance was nothing less than his second in command - a host of empty spaces and things unsaid, piling one on top of each other to form the tiny cracks that made up their invisible relationship. Yet he saw none of that with Sven, Lance as easy and unreserved around him as if they’d been friends for years. Would he have been that way with Shiro, if things had been different? Was it too much to assume that, if he was right about the apparent attraction between the two of them, that Lance might extend the same level of interest, on a physical level at least, to Shiro as well? They were as good as twins, after all. Or had that long, lost year wrought too much damage on Shiro, after all?

Because, at the end of the day, who wouldn’t pick Sven over him? Even if they had the same face, Sven’s was unmarred by the cruel line that cut across Shiro’s; no shock of white or strands of gray in his hair to prematurely age him. He still looked young. He still looked _whole_. And maybe Shiro was like that once, too, but when they stood next to each other, no matter how closely they resembled one another, the differences between them stood out as stark as a dark blot against the morning sun.

If Shiro kept thinking like this, he might go insane.

It _was_ insane, an impossible situation, losing the subject of your hidden affection to your own clone. Twin. Alternate reality double. Whatever. In the end it didn’t matter, not really - Shiro had never had any intention of acting on his feelings from the start, so he might as well put them right back where he’d hidden them, carefully tucked away and out of sight.

Breathe. Focus. Inner stability. He could handle this.

“I’ll draw up a map for you both of the areas of the castle you’re allowed into,” Shiro said, in what he thought was a very calm, reasonable tone. “If that’s okay with you, Allura.”

“That sounds acceptable to me,” Allura said.

“They’re not _prisoners_ , you know,” Lance said.

“No, which is why we’re not confining them to quarters,” Shiro said. “But we have to take measures to keep the ship safe. I’m sure you understand.”

“Absolutely.” Sven smiled, all debonair charm, and, turning, said, “Hunk, yes? Will you pass me another pizza roll?”

 

II.

 

Idle minds are devils’ playgrounds, or so Shiro’s mother had once told him, and so keeping himself busy was nothing short of a survival skill. Fortunately, there was no shortage of things to do on the ship, even if they were in the middle of a rare bit of downtime: an hour of training, a jog around one of the upper decks, rehearsing a script for the arms show they were set to perform next week, checking on supply lines to coalition outposts; there was a lot to do.

None of it could fully take his mind off the way Lance looked at Sven.

Next on his checklist of ‘things to keep his mind off feelings’ was seeing how Matt and Pidge were faring with their new Galra tracking device. He didn’t actually understand much of how it worked, and knew he was signing himself up for a good half hour of tech-babble from the wunderkinder, but it was good to keep tabs on everyone, and if nothing else, should provide a good bit of distraction from other matters.

When he walked into the lab he was greeted by the warm, inviting smell of fresh baked goods, layered on top of the mysterious, acrid scent of something burning. He found Matt, Pidge, and Hunk crouched together in a huddle over a plate of cookies, a blowtorch, and a soldering iron  haphazardly piled on top of each other.

"What...are you all doing?"

"Baking, obviously," Pidge said, around a mouthful of crumbs.

"Oh, hey, Shiro," Hunk said, offering up one of said baked goods. "Cookie?"

"Uh...huh." Shiro looked around; he’d just left Allura and Coran on the bridge, which meant there was only one member of their team currently unaccounted for. “Where’s Lance?”

“Probably with his new boyfriend,” Hunk said, with a casual shrug.

“Boyfriend?” Shiro frowned. “You mean Sven.”

“Who else?” Pidge chimed in, “Lance has been going on about his ‘Swedish meatballs’ for days now.”

“Ew,” Matt said.

Shiro narrowed his eyes, but did not dignify Pidge’s remark with further comment.

“I don’t know that they should be spending so much time alone together. It’s...concerning.”

“Aww.” Matt grinned. “Sounds like someone’s jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Shiro said, managing a remarkably even tone. “I just don’t trust him, that’s all.”

“Who?” Pidge asked, “Sven? Or Lance?”

“Sven. Of course.”

“Really? ‘Cause I’m much more worried about Lance doing something dumb.” Pidge rolled over, tugged the plate of cookies out of Hunk’s hands, and shoved one in her mouth. “Why don’t you trust Sven? Isn’t he basically you?”

“He isn’t me.” Shiro’s expression soured.

"That’s actually kind of interesting point of debate,” Hunk said. “I mean, technically, you share the same DNA, so in a way, he _is_ you.”

"That's deep," Pidge said.

"I just think we should be more cautious, that's all," Shiro said.

“We,” Matt said, leering at him, “But especially Lance?”

“I’m not singling anyone out," Shiro said, "But, yes. Lance has spent the most time around him.”

“Mmhm.”

“I don’t like that look, Holt,” Shiro said, a warning tone rising in his voice.

“What look?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, lighten up a little,” Matt said, “And stop trying to make this about something that it’s not. You’re just upset ‘cause you’ve got the hots for Little Boy Blue, that’s all.”

“I do _not_ \- ”

“Which is kind of ridiculous, I mean, being jealous of your...clone? Twin?”

“Alternate reality doppelganger,” Hunk added, helpfully.

“That,” Matt said. “Look, if you like this Lance kid so much, just tell him.”

Shiro sighed, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not that simple, Matt.”

“Isn’t it, though? For crying out loud, Shiro, why are you always like this? Do you really enjoy being miserable so much? Just let yourself be happy for once,” Matt said, “At least try.”

A choking sound distracted them both, and they turned to see Pidge pounding her chest as she tried to cough up the cookie she’d apparently just inhaled.

“Hold up,” she wheezed, “Shiro likes _Lance_?”

It was Matt’s turn to sigh.

“Shiro. Please. If not for your sake, then for mine, talk to him,” Matt said, “I can’t stand seeing you mope around like this.”

Moping. Shiro had never once, in his life, moped about _anything_ , and he certainly wasn't moping about his 'alternate reality doppelganger' spending time with Lance. So what? There were more important things to worry about. They were in the middle of an intergalactic _war_ , Shiro didn't have time to fret over -

"And _this_ leads to the pool, which is - woah!" Lance stopped just short of walking into Shiro as he rounded a corner in the hallway. Predictably, Sven's hulking figure lurked just behind him. He had a hand on the small of Lance's back, presumably to stabilize him when he wheeled back from the near-collision. Whatever the reason, Shiro couldn't take his eyes off the point of contact.

"Oh, hey, Shiro. I was just showing Sven around - don't worry, we're not going anywhere 'restricted.'" This last was accompanied by Lance crooking his fingers in air quotes. "Just to like the pool and stuff."

"Is that right," Shiro said, flatly. "What are you going to do at the pool?"

"I dunno," Lance said, with a cheeky grin. "Maybe go skinny dipping?"

It was an innocuous enough comment, the exact kind of thing Lance would say, but still an inexplicable bubble of anger rose up in Shiro’s chest. His countenance darkened, brows drawn down in a stern line.

“Lance, I need you to start taking this seriously,” he said, clipped, cold, a sound backed up by years of military training. “We aren’t here to play around. This is not a tourist destination.”

“Woah, Shiro,” Lance said, “Chill, okay? It’s not a big deal."

“It _is_ a big deal. I don’t understand why you don’t see that.”

Lance stared at him, face scrunched up in a look of concentration.

“What _I_ don’t get is why you’re being so _weird_ about this,” Lance said. “What’s your big problem with Sven?”

“We have _no_ idea who he is, or where he came from, or why he’s here. For all we know, he could be a Galra agent!” He paused, and offered a brief glance towards Sven. “No offense.”

Sven held his hands up in a sign of surrender.

“None...taken?”

“A Galra agent?” Lance said, “Okay, we’ve left weird behind and moved straight into _freaking paranoid.”_

“Better than being naive.”

“You know what? Forget this. Contrary to popular belief, I can actually take care of myself. And, I can make my own decisions about _who I spend my time with._ ” As if to prove his point, Lance grabbed Sven’s hand and tugged him forward. “C’mon, Sven. Let’s go.”

Shiro started to go after them, but a rising sense of shame stalled him, the echoes of their brief argument lingering in his ears. In the end he said nothing, and just watched them go, until he was standing alone in the empty stretch of the hall.

 

III.

 

This was getting out of hand.

Shiro recognized that, better than anyone. It was a bad sign when outside forces were able to read his inner turmoil - after years of practice, Shiro liked to think that he was pretty good at keeping all of that well hidden. Now, though...

He had to do something about Lance.

The solution was obvious - apologize, and move on. Be logical. Defuse the situation. Conceal, don't feel, etcetera. He had people relying on him and a job to do, and no time to waste on emotions, especially for one of his teammates. No matter how infectious said teammate's smile was, or how light and warm was his laugh, or how Shiro's heart sped up just a little when the light caught his eyes and made them sparkle with the deep blue of the ocean...

_Get a hold of yourself, Shirogane._

He sent Lance a page over the comms, asking him to meet him on the aft observation deck. Shiro favored this place, a little out of the way from the usual stomping grounds comprised of their quarters, the bridge, and the mess hall, not only for it's quiet atmosphere but for the glittering, dazzling display of the stars outside the wide windows. He spent a few minutes to himself running through mantras in his head, willing the calm facade he needed to settle into place.

Behind him, the door slid open.

"Hey." Lance was in his civvies, posture casual, hands shoved into his jacket pockets. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes. Thank you, for coming," Shiro said, voice low, contrite. "Lance, I owe you an apology."

Lance raised an eyebrow.

"For being a weird jerk?"

"For being a weird jerk, yes." Shiro hung his head. "I've just been a little stressed out about our new guests, that's all. It's hard for me to trust them, after all that's happened. That didn't mean it was right of me to take it out on you, and I apologize."

"Hmm." Lance shifted his weight from foot to foot. "Do you really hate Sven that much?"

"I don't...hate him."

"But you don't like him."

"No. I don't."

"Why?"

"Why?" Shiro frowned. "I just said."

"Is that really it? Cause I don't think that's really it."

A momentary silence stretched between them. Shiro felt that there was something probing in Lance's gaze, an expectancy written there that he couldn't quite parse.

“I.” Shiro started, paused, shook his head. He turned his gaze towards the window; his reflection was a pale smear against the glossy dark. “It might be because I don’t trust myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s still a lot I don’t know. About what the Galra did to me. Sometimes, I think, what if…” He trailed off, unable to finish vocalising that thought. “Well. That’s part of it, anyway.”

“I trust you.” Lance took a small step toward him. “We all do. You know that, right?”

“I know.” Shiro looked back at him with a slight smile. “I’m doing my best to be worthy of that trust. But seeing him makes me think about all of those things, and it’s hard to put that aside.”

“You could’ve just told me that from the start. I’d have understood.”

“I’m sorry,” Shiro said, “This isn’t exactly easy for me to talk about.”

“I know. But dang, Shiro, you can’t just keep this stuff to yourself, you know? We’re teammates. We gotta talk to each other.” Lance smiled a little, and playfully smacked Shiro’s arm. “Am I your right hand man, or what?"

“I know. You’re right.”

“So what’s the other part?”

“The other part?”

“You said ‘that’s part of it, anyway.’”

“Oh.” Shiro felt a faint warmth creep across his cheeks. “Well. It’s like you said. You can make your own decisions about who you spend your time with, and outside of our duties as paladins, it’s really none of my business. If you like someone, then, I shouldn't try to get in the way of that. It isn't my place."

"If I...wait, hold up, what?" It was Lance's turn to frown, brow furrowing in confusion. "If I _like_ someone? What does that mean?"

"I mean, if you're... _interested_ in Sven, then, that's fine," Shiro said, "I just want you to be careful that's...Lance? What's wrong?"

Lance laughed.

And laughed, and laughed, and laughed, until he was doubled over, clutching at his sides, tears welling at the corner of his eyes. Shiro stood dumbfounded as he stared at him, trying to make sense of this sudden and unexpected turn of events.

“You think. Oh. Oh, man. You think,” Lance said, gasping and red-faced as he made a vague attempt to collect himself, “I’m into _Sven_ ? Are you for _real_?”

“I.” Shiro hesitated. “Am I wrong about that?”

“Well, you’re in the right neighborhood, maybe. Little off the mark, though.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I don’t like Sven,” Lance said, “I mean. I like him, he’s a cool guy. But I don’t _like_ like him, you know?”

“Oh.” Shiro cursed the little flutter in his chest, and the hopeful lilt in his voice. “You don’t?”

“Actually," Lance made a show of stretching his arms, bringing his hands to rest folded behind his head. "We were talking earlier about the person I _do_ like. He was kinda helping me figure out how to tell them.”

“Oh." The brief glimmer was quickly crushed; of course there was someone else. Shiro should have known that. He forced a smile that he hoped looked convincing. "I see. That's...good. You should just tell them, you know. I’m sure whoever it is would be glad to hear it.”

“Holy mother of quiznack, I cannot -” Lance cut off, then grabbed Shiro’s face with both of his hands. “I’m talking about _you_ , dummy!”

“Wh...huh?”

"Shiro, please do not take this the wrong way, but sometimes," Lance said, "You are really freaking stupid."

"I don't...think I follow."

"Hello? I've had a crush on you since we were at the Garrison," Lance said. "Did you really not know that?"

Gears turned. Things clicked. Realization dawned.

"But. You. You never said anything!" Shiro took Lance's hands in his own, and pulled them away from his face. "Why would I think that?"

"Yeah, duh, of course I never said anything," Lance said, "You're only like, 10,000 light years out of my league."

It was Shiro's turn to laugh, now, a low sound caught somewhere in his throat. Lance was looking at him with wide eyes, as if he was wondering if some bolt had slipped loose in the machinery that held Shiro's mind together. Maybe it had; maybe Shiro didn’t care.

"Lance. Lance. I can assure you, that is not the case."

"Wait." Lance narrowed his eyes. "Have we both been really dumb about this whole thing?"

"I think we have both been incredibly dumb about this whole thing, yes."

"Wow." Lance paused. "So, are you saying..."

"Yes." Shiro tightened his hands around Lance's; they were warm and comfortable in his grip.

"Oh. Wow. Okay, wow. Earth to Lance, you are way out there, buddy. I gotta be dreaming. This is a dream, right? Kiss me or something so I know it's not a dream."

"Okay," Shiro said.

And then he did.


End file.
